Musings
by The Sarcastic Typo
Summary: Wishes, hopes, dreams, and prayers: what's going through Father Mulcahy's mind when he can't sleep? Slash.


**Title: Musings  
Rating: PG-13  
Summary: Wishes, hopes, dreams, and prayers - what's going through Father Mulcahy's head when he can't sleep?  
Pairing: Hawkeye/Mulcahy  
Disclaimer: MASH does so totally not belong to me at all. I'm not making any money, I swear.**

Father Mulcahy sighed as laid down on his standard-issue army cot. He'd just finished his bedtime prayers - hopes and wishes of peace for himself, his friends, everyone in this poor country - and was, as usual, not tired.

He'd been having a horrible case of insomnia for the longest time, and couldn't decipher the cause - was it something he'd been eating, lately? No; his diet never changed much around here. Could it be he was troubled with something? Possibly; but he'd have already prayed for guidance if that was the case.

Unless? Yes, it was possible he knew exactly what was keeping him up at night - guilt.

He was a priest; he was committed to God; he was in love with someone else.

And that made him guilty.

How could he have let it happen? He knew he cared about everyone around the MASH unit he was assigned to and loved them deeply, but in a fatherly, guidance counselor way. How had that love transformed for one of them? What had happened down the road?

It was a mystery to his mind, and yet clear as day to his heart - the one who'd always been there for him; the one to comfort _him_, even though he was the one supposed to comfort others; the one to make him smile when he really had no reason to be smiling.

_Hawkeye Pierce._

Father Mulcahy prayed again, asking His forgiveness, but at the same time, accusing - _why can't I just be like everyone else? Why can't I be happy?_

Then he felt even guiltier - what right did he have to be happy when so many others were miserable? He had none - priests were supposed to be selfless; they were supposed to give up their happiness to bring happiness and contentment to others.

He wondered what his life would have been like if he hadn't become a priest - would he have even met the person he loved so deeply now? Probably not; life was ironic sometimes.

Had he chosen a different path, and been able to act on his feelings, there would've been no one there.

And now, on his current path, the person was right in front of him, daily, and he was unable to do anything at all.

Cruel irony.

All of this was of course assuming Hawkeye would be or could be the least bit interested in him at all - after all, he wasn't much. Scrawny, mild-mannered, a little bit of a geek. People called him _cute_ or _adorable_ and he wasn't sure if he liked that.

He shook his head - why was he torturing himself with these thoughts? It wasn't as if he could say or do _anything_, so he was just wasting time thinking about it.

But, he reasoned, since he could do anything in real life, it couldn't hurt to do something in his thoughts, right? He needed comforting thoughts just like anyone else.

He imagined what would happen if he admitted his feelings - would Hawkeye smile and laugh them off, be offended, reciprocate? He wished he could know.

He wished that one of the nights Hawkeye came to him for guidance, or when he guided _him_, he could look him in the eyes, tell him what he really wanted to say; tell him how much it hurt him to see him hurt and how much he wished he could take away his pain.

He wished that once, just once, he could lean in close, and kiss him soundly, sweetly, and have the kiss returned.

He wished that he could have once chance to be with him - just _one_, to know what it felt like to be with someone you cared about, and who cared about you.

Sighing, Father Mulcahy closed his eyes. It hurt to care so much about someone without having them know.

It hurt to love someone so much and to be bound from expressing that love.

It hurt to look into the eyes of that someone and to _know_, just know, that there was some deeper emotion hidden well behind his blue eyes.

But there wasn't anything else he could do.

Sending one last prayer for strength skyward, the chaplain fell into a fitful sleep, dreaming of peace, love, and Hawkeye Pierce.

_-End _


End file.
